28

On Sunday night, Krysta and I are listening to music and trying on her fanciest dresses over our regular clothes. I’m zipping up a pink halter with a giant tutu skirt when shouting erupts downstairs.

“I’m calling the police!” we hear Mayor Perez cry.

Krysta and I look at each other and then rush down the gleaming staircase in our gowns and jeans. We hear more yelling coming from the kitchen.

“You know you were trespassing?” Mayor Perez is saying as we make our way through the foyer. “You know that’s a crime?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” a small voice replies. I recognize it instantly. Daniel.

Krysta drags me into the kitchen, where Mayor Perez has Daniel by the shirt. “You scared my wife to death!” he yells as Mrs. Perez stands by the sliding glass door that overlooks the backyard. Her face is pale as she clutches her pearl necklace.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Krysta asks. “What’s Four-Eyes doing here?”

“You know this kid?” Mayor Perez asks. He lets go of Daniel and holds up a roll of toilet paper. His hand shakes, probably because he’s so furious. “I found this tucked under his arm. Looks like he was trying to toilet paper our bushes.”

Daniel couldn’t look guiltier, especially since he’s dressed all in black. But toilet papering Krysta’s house? That doesn’t sound like him.

He flashes me a terrified look, and suddenly I know why he’s really here. The toilet paper is just a cover. He’s here for the well. He was going to break into it and steal Amber.

“Whether you know him or not,” Mayor Perez huffs, “he can explain this to the police.”

Oh no. If the police come, they’re bound to figure out what Daniel’s really after. I can tell Daniel knows it too.

But miraculously, Krysta pipes up. “Dad! You can’t make a big deal out of this. It’ll be all over school! I don’t want anyone knowing that a freak like him was anywhere near me. Gross!”

“So you expect me to let it slide?” Mayor Perez asks in disbelief.

Krysta shrugs. “Can’t you make him do community service or something?” Her face brightens. “Like picking up trash? That would be a good punishment.”

Mayor Perez considers for a second. He nods slowly. “I suppose I could find something for him.” He turns back to Daniel. “Don’t think your parents won’t find out about this. In fact, we’re going to talk to them right now.”

Daniel casts his eyes at the floor. “My aunt,” he says. “I live with my aunt.”

“Fine. Then let’s go call her.” Mayor Perez grabs Daniel by the arm and drags him into the other room.

“Girls,” Mrs. Perez says after a minute, “the situation is under control. Go back upstairs and get out of those ridiculous outfits.” Her perfect, composed face is back.

I expect Krysta to argue, but she only says, “Fine,” and waves me up the stairs.

When we’re in her room, Krysta slams the door shut and whirls around to face me. “I can’t believe you told him!” she says in a fierce whisper.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“You told Four-Eyes about the well.”

I consider denying it, but there’s no point. “I didn’t mean to tell him,” I say instead. “It was before you swore me to secrecy. And I had no idea he’d come here searching for it.” He must be really desperate. Mikey was looking better, and the extra Amber I gave his aunt should have helped. Something must have happened.

“If my parents find out, they’ll think I told you. They’ll kill me!” Krysta says, and suddenly I understand why she insisted that her parents not call the police.

“I’m really sorry,” I say, yanking off the pink tutu dress. It’s too big on me anyway.

“I don’t get why you would tell that freak anything.”

“He’s not a freak,” I can’t help saying. “Just because you’ve never given him a chance doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with him. He’s as normal as I am.”

Krysta laughs. “He’s not normal. He’s a loser!”

If he’s a loser, that means I’m a loser. But suddenly I don’t care about that because as I hang the dress on Krysta’s chair, a piece of paper on her desk catches my eye. A letter identical to the one Miss Patel gave me.

“You entered the writing contest?” Not only that, but she’s a finalist like I am.

“What?” Krysta says. Then she sees me staring at the letter and shoves it into a folder. “Oh, um. Yeah.”

I look at her. “Why would you do that? You don’t even like to write.”

“I thought it might be fun. You know, whatever,” she says lightly.

It’s not whatever. Not to me. This was supposed to be my chance, finally, to be good at something. And Krysta had to take it away. She’ll win the contest. I know she will. Just like she’s won everything else.

“You know what’s not normal?” I say, something snapping inside me. “Being perfect! All you do is win and succeed and ace everything.”

“So what? I’m smart.”

“No! You’re magical. Smart people still get things wrong. It’s how they learn and get better. But you never fail. You’re not allowed to. You probably don’t even know how!”

“Last I checked,” Krysta says, her voice icy, “you wanted to be just like me.”

She’s right. But that’s not true, not anymore. “I’d rather have no friends than fake ones like you.”

Krysta laughs. “Are you dumping me?”

“You said it yourself. Now that I’m like everyone else, I don’t need you anymore.”

“Fine. I don’t know why I bothered being friends with you anyway. It was like trying to train a frog or something, totally hopeless. I mean, why not do us all a favor and go back to where you came from?”

The words are meant to sting, and they do, so much that my breath catches in my throat and I can’t say anything back. But really, there’s nothing left to say.